Prisoner 1783
by g0shawk
Summary: A serial killer is released, and there's an Easter egg hunt at the SBPD. What could go wrong? 3rd in the Unexpected series. Shassy.
1. Easter

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or it's characters, etc

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or its characters, etc.**

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Prisoner one-seven-eight-three report to the main gate."

A man in a drab prison uniform stood up from a table and followed the instructions projected by the PA system. When he reached the gate, a well-dressed man on the other side signaled for it to be opened. With a loud beep, the gate slowly lifted, allowing the prisoner to pass under it. "Why are you here?" he asked the man in the suit.

"I'm not sure yet," he responded. "They called me in and told me to get you."

"Maybe they're letting me go," the prisoner said with a dry laugh.

"Right," the other man said sarcastically.

**0o0o0**

"You're being released."

"What?" The two men looked at the speaker in shock.

Ignoring them, he turned to the man in suit. "You are his legal counsel, correct?"

"Yes—"

**0o0o0**

After the meeting, the lawyer shook hands with his client and left. The former prisoner went to the holding station to collect his few belongings, and then walked slowly to the exit in a state of disbelief. Minutes later, he was outside. Standing still for a moment, he observed his surroundings with relief and whispered, "Free."

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Juliet watched Lassiter with a smile as he helped hide Easter eggs around the outside of the station. He acted as though he didn't like having kids around, but underneath his gruff exterior, she knew he was a bit of a softie. Her smile grew as he berated an officer for placing an egg up too high. Picking up a basket, she joined the others.

Kids and parents started to arrive just as the police were finishing. Gathering them into a group, Juliet stood in front of them and said, "Hi!"

"Hi!" came a scattered response.

"Oh, come on," she said, in the classic way of greeting children before an event. "That wasn't very loud. Let's try it again. Hi!"

"HI!" they shouted back at her gleefully.

"Well that's better! So who wants to find some Easter eggs?" Juliet covered her ears as they yelled and squealed in affirmation.

"Alright, here are the rules. When we tell you to go, anybody who doesn't have a basket can come and get one over here," she said, gesturing towards a nearby pile. "Then you can start looking for the eggs outside, around the station. Whoever finds the most eggs will get a big prize. How does that sound?"

"YAY!" they screamed.

Laughing, she waited for them to quiet down again. "Okay…ready, set, GO!"

Shrieking, they ran off in all directions.

Spotting Lassiter, Juliet thought she saw an almost longing look in his eyes. She was about to walk over to him when she heard Gus call her. "Over here!" she answered.

Jogging up to her, Gus greeted her with a swift kiss on the cheek. "Hey."

"Hey," she said back, smiling.

"How's it going?"

"It's great," she told him, looking back to watch the kids. "They love it."

"Seems like you do too," he remarked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

Juliet grinned at him. "I do, I really do."

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Carlton thought of Shawn as he watched Guster and O'Hara walk around together. _I wish he were here. It's just like Henry to call him at the worst time. He probably wanted him to chop wood or something. On Easter!_ Shaking his head crossly, he decided to go inside, where he wouldn't be distracted by things that reminded him of Shawn. Strolling over to his desk, he noticed Buzz sitting at his, staring aimlessly out a window. Carlton rolled his eyes and called out sharply, "McNabb!"

Buzz jumped guiltily. "Yes, Detective Lassiter?"

Carlton looked at him sternly. "Stop wasting time in here and get outside."

Slowly, a big smile appeared on Buzz's face. "Really?" Seeing the detective's expression, he stammered, "I-I mean, yes sir, right away sir."

Carlton couldn't help chuckling as the officer beat a hasty retreat for the exit. Sitting down, he turned on his computer. While he watched for it to finish loading, he glanced around aimlessly. Easter was always a fairly quiet day at the SBPD. A few officers were at their desks working (or pretending to) as per the chief's orders, but most were outside enjoying the weather and watching the egg hunt. Turning his attention back to the computer screen, he logged onto the department's system and opened his email. Clicking on the sole new message, he scanned it lazily and then froze in disbelief. Scrolling up, he read it again, and a third time. Five words stuck in his mind, the way an image of the sun stays behind your eyelids after you look at it, even when your eyes are closed: JOE WARREN HAS BEEN RELEASED.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Shawn stood up straight, wiping sweat from his forehead. He glared at his dad. "Is this really necessary?"

Henry kept his arms folded as he said, "Shawn, you told me you would chop this wood, and then you never did."

"That was in eighth grade!" Shawn exclaimed.

"It's never too late to do the right thing. Don't roll your eyes at me, I'm helping you out here."

"_Helping_ me? You said if I didn't come you wouldn't help me with cases anymore!"

"That's how it works in the real world, Shawn," Henry said, shrugging.

"No, Dad, that's how blackmail works, in your crazy world!" Turning away, Shawn picked up the axe and got back to work, simmering with resentment.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Carlton rushed back outside, searching desperately for Chief Vick. "Chief? Chief!" Seeing her, he ran over and started talking rapidly about the email.

"What? Detective Lassiter, slow down. What's this about an email?"

"It's Joe Warren, Chief! He's been released!"

"Released? How is that possible?"

Carlton shook his head, as bewildered as she was. "I don't know. He's a serial killer; he wasn't even supposed to be paroled."

"He wasn't just a serial killer; he killed _children_, and he—" Chief Vick stopped mid-sentence.

"Chief?" Carlton prodded, concerned.

"He--he lived a block away from here," she whispered.

Horrified, Carlton said, "You think—you think he might—"

"Well, it's practically right around the corner, and with all the kids here…"

"Oh my God. What should we do?"

Pale, Vick thought for a moment, and then told him to inform the parents of the situation.

"What about the kids?"

"I'll take care of it," she assured him.

As he turned away, Carlton heard her call O'Hara and several of the officers. After he had gathered the parents together, he started to explain what had happened as calmly as possible. By the time he had finished, he was hard pressed to keep them from dashing off to search for their children. Finally, he managed to tell them that the rest of the police were busy retrieving the kids.

Within minutes, officers began to appear, carrying or holding hands with one or more children. Parents ran forward in relief as they saw them. When most of the kids had been accounted for, Carlton asked the families to stay, so that the police could talk to them. They agreed immediately, and proceeded to talk nervously with each other.

"Excuse me, Detective?"

Carlton looked at the woman before him in surprise. _Interesting…most people say officer._ "Yes?" he answered.

"I—my—my daughter…she isn't here," said the woman, wringing her hands.

"Your daughter?" Carlton repeated, concerned. "What's her name?"

"Annie, sir. Annie Marshak."

"Marshak? She's related to David Marshak, the prosecutor?"

"Yes, sir. David is my husband, Annie's father."

Something clicked in Carlton's mind. _Oh…that's how she knew I was a detective._

"Alright. I'll get right on it, ma'am." Glancing around, he spotted Buzz. Calling him over, he told him to get some of the other officers and search around the station for Annie.

When they returned in five minutes, having been unable to find her, Mrs. Marshak began to panic. All the other children had been located, and were safely back inside the station with their parents. Worried, Carlton asked everyone who was able to help look. In the end, he actually had to order a few officers to stay with the rest of the children because everybody wanted to help.

They searched everywhere: outside of the station, inside, and in the areas surrounding it, shouting her name, but to no effect. Annie was nowhere to be found. Mrs. Marshak was shaking and in tears, and the officers were grim.

Carlton told O'Hara to put out an APB, and then set off as quickly as he could to find the one person who he desperately hoped could help.

He had tried calling Shawn's cell and Henry's house phone, but no one had picked up. Dialing Shawn's number for the umpteenth time, he reached the messages once again. "Damn it! Why aren't they answering?"

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Shawn glowered at his dad. "Would you _please_ let me answer that?"

"No, Shawn," Henry said calmly, holding the phone out of reach. "Finish the work, then you can have your precious phone back."

"Dad! It has to be important! Why else would they call so many times?"

"What could be _so_ important that _anyone_ would call _you_ so much?"

"God, Dad! I work for the police, remember? At least tell me who it is!"

"Fine," Henry snapped. Checking the last number that had called, he said, "Why do you have Lassiter's number saved?"

"I—" Shawn hesitated briefly. "He's a detective—at the police station. I work with him. Why wouldn't I have his number saved?"

Examining him curiously, Henry said, "Oh…alright. I just thought you two didn't really get along."

Shawn blushed almost imperceptibly, but it was enough. Just as Henry was about to question him, Lassiter pulled up in his car.

"Lassy! My savior!" Shawn shouted.

As Lassiter walked grimly towards them, the smile disappeared off Shawn's face. "What's wrong?"

"I need you to come down to the station, Shawn."

Henry watched them closely, not missing the fact that Lassiter used 'I' and his son's first name.

"Okay. I gotta go, Dad," Shawn said, dropping the axe gratefully.

"Wait, what's going on?" Henry asked.

"Joe Warren was released this morning, and David Marshak's daughter went missing from the station's Easter egg hunt," Lassiter told him bleakly.

"Joe Warren was released?" Henry exclaimed, shocked.

Shawn looked at them, confused. "Who's Joe Warren?"

Lassiter nodded at Henry and grabbed Shawn's arm, pulling him towards the car. "I'll explain on the way."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Henry questioned, following them.

Hesitating only briefly, Lassiter gestured to the car, saying, "We can use all the help we can get."

**0o0o0**

When they arrived at the SBPD, Chief Vick rushed up to them, relieved. "Mr. Spencer, thank God you're here! Oh, hello Henry."

"Karen," Henry responded shortly.

"I assume Detective Lassiter has informed you both of the situation?"

"Yes," Shawn and Henry answered simultaneously.

"Alright, Mr. Spe—Shawn, I need you to try to psychically locate Annie while we do our best using traditional methods. Detective Lassiter, you go with him; Henry, come with me."

After Vick and Henry had left, Shawn turned to Lassiter. "Where should we start?"

"Well, we've already searched everywhere nearby, and she's obviously not here. If you can find…anything…at all…that would really help." Lassiter met Shawn's eyes anxiously. "You _can_ help, right?"

Determination crossed Shawn's features. "If there's a way, I'll find it. I have to…for Annie's sake."

Relaxing slightly at his words, Lassiter leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "Thanks."

Shawn gaped at him. "You realize you just did that in public, right?"

Lassiter smiled a little. "I checked out of the corner of my eye first."

"Aha." Becoming serious again, Shawn said, "Let's go talk to the kids."

"The kids? Why?"

"To find out who saw her last. I gotta have some idea of where to start."

Staring at him, Lassiter shook his head in amazement. "Damn, you did it again; I didn't even think of that. Maybe I was just distracted by everything that happened, but…I don't know…I might never have thought of it if you hadn't been here."

"Well, I am here, and we're on the same side. That's all that matters, right?"

"I guess." As they walked into the station to see the kids, Lassiter added, "Maybe I ought to take some lessons from you."

Shawn looked at him in surprise. "You wouldn't feel…degraded?"

"Of course I would. Here they are." Lassiter talked briefly with the parents, asking them to gather the kids together and get their attention. "They're all yours," he told Shawn.

The pseudo-psychic stepped forward, crouching down to bring himself to their face level. "Hey guys. Can I ask you a few questions?"

When they nodded at him, he said, "Okay, thanks. So, how many of you know Annie? Raise your hands."

Nearly all the hands went up.

"Good. Now, do you remember when the police came and brought you all back to your parents?"

They nodded again.

"Did any of you see Annie right before that? No?" Shawn paused, thinking. "Alright, the last time you saw her, where was she?"

A little blond girl in pigtails raised her hand shyly.

"Yes?" Shawn said, pointing to her.

"I saw her by the big bush outside. She told me she saw the Easter bunny."

Shawn peered up at Lassiter questioningly. The detective beckoned to an officer and asked him to find all the big bushes around the station. The officer returned a few minutes later, reporting the locations of four large bushes.

"What's your name, honey?" Shawn asked the girl.

"Kacie," she answered.

"Well, Kacie, there are a few big bushes outside. Do you know which one it was?"

She put a finger to her mouth, apparently trying to remember.

"Was it the one by the driveway?" he hinted.

"No."

"What about the one in back? By the gate?"

"Yes!" she said excitedly. "That one!"

"Good, that's really good," Shawn told her, smiling. "Thank you very much, Kacie."

She bit her lip, grinning at him bashfully. "You're welcome."

**0o0o0**

Shawn and Lassiter hurried over to the bush Kacie had identified.

"She said Annie saw the Easter bunny," Shawn remarked. "Do you think it was a—"

"Maybe," Lassiter responded curtly.

Shawn poked around the bush and then froze, noticing something on the ground underneath, slightly hidden below the leaves. He kneeled down and reached out for it.

Lassiter leaned over to see what he was looking at. Their eyes met over the object Shawn was holding.

"It's her basket, isn't it?" Shawn asked, picking up one of the eggs that had fallen out.

"It must be," Lassiter agreed. "Damn."

**To Be Continued…**

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**A/N: So, what do you think of chapter one? Not quite what you expected? This is my first story with an actual case, and it's kind of hard coming up with what's going to happen. Anyway, hope you like it so far. I have a test Tuesday that I have to study for, so I don't know how soon I'll be able to write the next chapter - I'll try not to take very long.**


	2. Mask

The bartender didn't bother to glance up as the door opened and closed with a slight jangle. "What'll it be?" he asked disinterestedly.

"Whiskey," the man responded, sitting at the counter.

When the bartender handed him the glass, the man lifted it in a toast, saying, "Cheers."

"What for?"

"Hmm, what for? Let's say to life in general; the unexpected surprises it brings."

Eyeing him sharply, the bartender said, "You just get out of the big house?"

The man didn't seem surprised by his question. "Yeah, after four years."

"Congratulations."

"You have no idea."

The bartender gestured to the empty bar. "Not much going on here."

Something about the man's answering chuckle caused the bartender to shiver.

"Well, Clint," he said, peering at the bartender's nametag. "Since you asked so straightforwardly, I'll tell you a little more."

Clint felt himself bristle at the jibe in the man's voice, but he stayed silent, listening.

"I was not supposed to get out. Seven life sentences with no chance of parole, but, somehow, here I am…legally."

"Seven life sentences?" Clint whistled.

The man grinned, and downed the rest of his drink.

As Clint filled the glass again for him, the weather report started on the TV, and both men turned to watch.

"It's a beautiful Easter morning, but enjoy it while you can because--"

"Great," Clint muttered over the woman speaking. "More rain."

"I like rain," the man said lazily. "Good for covering tracks."

Clint merely grumbled in return, used to having shady characters frequent his bar.

"Who's that?"

Following his gaze, Clint found it settled on a photograph of a young girl, pinned up on the wall. "That's my daughter, Sara."

"Cute."

Clint froze. There was something in his voice…

"I'd love to meet her," the man continued in the same tone.

"What did you say you were in for?" Clint asked carefully.

"I didn't," he responded, but the answer was written in his eyes.

Clint's face hardened. "Get out."

"Excuse me?"

Dropping the towel he had been holding, Clint leaned forward over the counter and said threateningly, "Leave. NOW."

The man's eyes met his intelligently.

"Very well." Standing up, he reached back for his wallet.

"Don't bother," Clint gritted. "I don't want your money."

Very deliberately, the man opened his wallet, pulled out a few bills, and placed them next to his glass.

Clint clenched his hands into fists.

"Thank you for your service," the man said mockingly.

Before Clint could reply, he had turned and walked out the door.

"Scum," the bartender muttered after him.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Still at the bush, Shawn and Lassiter turned around as they heard the Chief call them.

"Chief!" Shawn said, interrupting. "I'm getting a very strong reading off of this basket. The spirits are telling me it's Annie's—" He stopped, seeing her expression.

"I'm sorry, you're off the case," she told them.

"What? Why?" Lassiter exclaimed.

"Carlton, this is a missing persons case. It's out of our hands."

"But Chief! It all started here, and if Joe Warren is involved…"

"I know you feel responsible, " she said quietly. "But you know the protocol. We have to hand it over."

"What about Shawn?" Lassiter added desperately. "He's better than any search dog or computer…"

Vick raised her eyebrows. "You're endorsing him now?"

"I can't just let this go, Karen. I know he can help."

She sighed indecisively. "Fine, but you're on your own. I can't help you, and if they ask me, I had no idea you were doing this."

When Lassiter opened his mouth to speak, she raised her hand, stopping him.

"Also, if you do find anything helpful, report it. We can't afford to make mistakes at this point; our top priority is getting Annie back safely."

Lassiter and Shawn nodded together in agreement. As Vick walked back up to the station, they watched her in silence. The second she disappeared from view, Shawn turned to Lassiter and threw his arms around him. Lassiter staggered backwards a few steps from the impact, lifting his arms out of the way. Recovering, he let his hands settle around Shawn, and he returned the hug. After a moment, he asked, "What's this for?"

Still holding him tightly, Shawn said, "Just for being you."

Lassiter smiled, resting his chin on top of Shawn's head. "Thanks."

Shawn snuggled closer in response.

"We should get back to work," Lassiter sighed regretfully.

"M-kay," Shawn mumbled.

Lassiter waited. "Shawn?"

"Mhmm?"

"Shawn."

The younger man didn't move. Lassiter lifted his arms again. When nothing changed, Lassiter muttered, "Alright, you asked for it." Sneaking a hand down, he jabbed Shawn's side with his finger.

"Gah!" Shawn shouted, leaping back. He mock-glared at Lassiter. "That tickled!"

"Oh, really?" Lassiter said innocently. "Sorry."

"If you wanted me to let go, all you had to do was ask."

"Well, I'll remember that next time…maybe."

Huffing, Shawn stalked off indignantly towards the road.

Lassiter grinned. "Where are you going?"

"I'm following an astral trail!" Shawn yelled back.

The older man rolled his eyes.

"I saw that!"

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

"Who are they?" Gus asked, nudging Juliet.

She turned in her chair to look just as a group of people in suits walked by, carrying various pieces of equipment. "Oh, it must be the FBI. I guess they're here to take over."

"Take over? Why?"

Juliet sighed. "We can't deal with missing people unless it's directly related to a homicide case, and even then we have to call them. Since Joe Warren was released legally, we have no say."

"Who _is_ Joe Warren, exactly? I've heard some people talking, but I don't know much."

"Well, I actually only know what I've heard, too. I was still in Miami when he came into the picture. Apparently, he's a serial killer who dealt exclusively with children." She made a face. "Anyway, he managed to elude the police for months, until someone saw him and called in. Nearly every officer here went to get him, and they ended up cornering him in a warehouse only a couple of blocks from here, near where he lived. He received seven life sentences, though he probably killed more than that; the prosecution offered him a deal if he would tell them the names of all his victims, but he didn't take it. David Marshak was actually the prosecutor who helped convict him."

"Dang," Gus said, wide-eyed. "The missing girl's father is the one that put him in jail?"

"Yeah," she affirmed.

Gus shook his head in amazement. "No wonder everyone's so worried."

Juliet agreed, and stood up from her desk. "Can you help me with these?" she asked, gesturing to two large boxes of papers.

"Sure."

Picking up a box each, they headed down the hallway. As they passed the Chief's office, Gus paused momentarily, looking at the group of people inside.

"Gus?" When she saw that he was no longer following her, Juliet backtracked to join him.

"What do you think they're talking about?" he said curiously.

Juliet watched with him, wondering the same thing. "They're probably deciding what to do about Annie and Warren."

"Have they put out an AMBER Alert?"

"I don't think so…at least, not yet. They could be discussing that."

Interested, Gus turned back to her. "How does that work? Are there some sort of conditions, or is it just used any time there's a missing kid?"

"Finally, a question I can answer," Juliet grinned at him.

He smiled sheepishly back at her.

"Alright," she started. "There are four basic guidelines set by the Department of Justice." Adjusting her grip on the box, she tilted her head in the direction they had been going. As they began to walk again, she continued, "First, we have to confirm that an abduction has taken place."

"That makes sense," Gus said. "We've done that, right?"

Juliet nodded. "We searched around the station, and we know she isn't with family or friends. Second, the child has to be 17 years old or younger. Third, there has to be sufficient descriptive information of the child, the captor, or the captor's vehicle—"

Gus laughed, distracting her.

"What?" she asked.

"You sound like you memorized the manual." Seeing her expression, he said, "Wait, you--oh." He tried to keep a straight face, but failed and broke out laughing again.

Juliet squinted her eyes at him threateningly. "If I weren't holding this I would smack you."

"Sorry. So, what's the fourth?" When she hesitated, he prompted, "Juliet?"

"The—" she took a deep breath. "The fourth is…the child must be at risk of…serious injury or—or death."

Arriving at the file room, they stood silently for a moment. Gus opened the door and set down his box. "Do you think she'll be okay?" he inquired solemnly.

Juliet filed the box away, and then did the same for the one Gus had carried in. Turning back, she said sadly, "I don't know. There's usually a 48-hour window, but in this case…"

Crossing over to her, Gus took hold of her hands. "If there's anything I can do to help—"

She smiled gratefully at him. "I don't think—wait!"

"What?" he asked, surprised.

"Shawn! Shawn could help!" she said excitedly. "He could sense her or something!"

Gus' face fell. "Uh…"

Not noticing his reaction, she started pulling him out the door. "We have to find him!"

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Carlton watched as Shawn poked around the area surrounding the bush, searching for clues. It didn't seem to differ from what the Crime Scene Unit did, except that Shawn didn't have any fancy instruments. He blushed as he found himself admiring the way the younger man moved.

"Checking me out?" Shawn asked suddenly.

Carlton jumped guiltily and changed the subject. "Find anything?"

Shawn grinned knowingly, but didn't pursue it. "Not much; it could be nothing."

"It could be something."

"True. Okay, look over here."

Walking over, Carlton crouched down next to him by the road. He stared blankly at the pavement. "What am I looking at?"

The pseudo-psychic reached out and swiped his finger through a small puddle of oil. "See this?"

"Yes. Did you have to touch it?" Carlton remarked in disgust.

"Why wouldn't I? Now see those marks on the ground there?"

"Yes, but what--" He paused, putting two and two together. "There was a car right here."

"Uh-huh. Recently, too," Shawn pointed out.

Carlton stood up, observing the scene more carefully. "It was sitting here, and someone was waiting…"

Shawn nodded grimly. "He could have gotten a rabbit, and lured her over—"

"And then driven away…in that direction?"

"Maybe…" Shawn muttered. "If—the stop lights!" he exclaimed.

Carlton's eyes lit up. "If he went that way, he may have gone through a red light!"

"Sweet! I mean—you know."

They stared at each other, beaming proudly. Shawn stepped towards Carlton, who moved forward nearly instantaneously to meet him.

"Shawn!" came Juliet's voice.

They sprang apart, flustered.

Juliet ran up, dragging Gus behind her. "You're here! Thank goodness!"

"Jules, hey. What's up?"

Gus glanced at Carlton apologetically while the blond detective babbled to Shawn.

"—So if you could sense her, we could find her and everything would be alright!"

As she paused to take a breath, Shawn bit his lip. He looked from Gus to Lassiter, wondering what to do. Juliet was the only one of them who didn't know his secret. They both seemed to realize what he was thinking; Gus nodded at him, smiling a little, and after a moment Lassiter bobbed his head as well.

"Uh…Jules…" Shawn started hesitantly.

Something akin to worry flickered in her eyes. "Yeah?"

He fidgeted. "I—uh…I'm sorry…I'm…I'm not a psychic."

She froze, and stared at him as he explained.

"Jules? Jules, are you okay? Oh, God, please don't cry. I'm sorry for not telling you before."

A lone tear coursed down her cheek as her eyes filled. Stricken, she whispered, "But, Annie…"

Gus put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "We'll find her, hon. Shawn may not be a real psychic, but he's almost as good…better, really. I mean, compare his record to those of some of those self-proclaimed psychics."

Calming down a bit, Juliet tried a small smile.

"There she is!" Shawn said happily. Bouncing up to her, he hugged her tightly and then jumped back again and bowed with his hands pressed together in front of his chest. "Welcome to the fold."

Juliet's smile increased at that, and she turned to the other two men. "So…you already knew?"

They nodded.

Her expression changed to one of puzzlement. "I understand why you would tell Gus, of course, but…no offense, why does he know?" She tilted her head towards Lassiter.

Both the detective and the pseudo-psychic turned slightly red at her question.

"We're uh…" Shawn started awkwardly.

"Dating," Lassiter finished for him.

Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my…but how--?" she asked, incredulous.

"Actually, we have you to thank for that," Lassiter told her.

"Me?"

Shawn looked to Gus, asking silently for permission. Getting it, he explained. "On Valentine's Day, you know all those gifts that showed up on your desk?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, those were from me."

"I thought they were from Gus…"

Gus shook his head. "I wish. I asked Shawn if I could take responsibility for them."

Still looking confused, she said, "So…if they were from Shawn, and—" she gasped in realization. "I gave them to Detective Lassiter!"

The three men burst out laughing.

Juliet blushed. "I didn't know--"

Shawn grinned at her. "And I thank you for that."

Glancing at his watch, Lassiter said seriously, "Alright, now that we're all caught up, we need to get back to work."

After Shawn and Lassiter had explained the situation of having to search separately, and shared what they had found, all four walked up to the police station to check on the traffic cameras.

Juliet sat at the computer while the men stood behind her, watching intently. "Okay, what's the time frame?" she inquired.

"The egg hunt started at 10 o'clock, and we began rounding up the kids up at approximately 10:15," Lassiter answered.

Juliet's fingers flew across the keyboard, and a single result came up. Her hand shaking, she clicked on it.

"Oh my God!"

"It's her!"

"But he's wearing a mask!"

"Damn! Check the license plate."

Zooming in, the blond detective read it out loud. "J-L-K-0-2-5-1."

Quickly, she entered it into the system. They waited with baited breath as words and faces flickered across the screen. Finally, it stopped.

"Joe Warren," Gus whispered. "He did do it."

Shawn furrowed his brow. "Why would he wear a mask?"

"Maybe in case anyone saw him when he grabbed her?" Juliet suggested.

"But he must have known we would have his license plate number," Lassiter said, catching on to what Shawn was saying.

"Something's not right here," the pseudo-psychic agreed slowly.

The four of them exchanged glances.

Gus sighed. "Well, whatever's going on, I hope Annie is okay."

"As do we all, I'm sure," Lassiter responded.

Shawn and Juliet nodded.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

The room was cold and dark, with only a thin ray of light piercing the blackness. Dust mites swirled lazily in the beam, disappearing along the edges. In the corner, something stirred.

Opening her eyes, the little girl peered at her surroundings in confusion. She squinted, trying to see more. After a few minutes, her vision had adjusted enough that she could tell she was in an unknown place. As her gaze passed over the opposite corner, she thought she saw a dim shape akin to that of a large person.

"Daddy?" she said uncertainly.

The shadow chuckled. "Sorry, Annie. Daddy's not here right now. It's just you…and me."

**To Be Continued…**

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

**A/N: And the plot thickens! Hehe. Sorry if any facts are off. All I know about law/police stuff is what I learn from watching cop shows and reading books. Oh, and I was an explorer for a while at my local police station. Don't know all the real technical stuff, though. I got the guidelines for using the AMBER Alert from the internet, so parts of Juliet's dialogue are straight from there. Thanks for all the reviews so far – they always inspire me to write more. :)**


	3. Those Things With The Pictures

Juliet sat up as Gus jogged towards her desk. From the corner of her eye she saw Lassiter and Shawn look up at the same time.

"Gus?" she asked, wondering if something was wrong.

He arrived at their area, panting slightly. "Th—the AMBER Alert…they've started it, and it's on the TV over there…" he paused to point his thumb over his shoulder in the direction he had come from. "I thought you might want to see it."

Juliet felt herself relax at his words. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." She turned to the other two men. "Are you coming?"

"Of course," Shawn replied, standing up.

Lassiter nodded and joined them.

They hurried to the TV, getting there just in time to see a complete repeat of the announcement. The news reporter spoke the information aloud while pictures were displayed on the screen. First it showed Annie; they had a fairly recent photo, thankfully. After giving out basic facts about her, a copy of Joe Warren's mug shot appeared, along with his name and the license plate number of his car.

By the time the reporter had started to read out the number to call, a crowd had gathered in the station. Officers shook their heads morosely and discussed the case with each other.

Ducking away, Juliet returned to her desk. When the others were back as well, she asked, "Are we going to tell them about the—"

"No," Lassiter interrupted. "They have his plates already, and even if they saw that the driver was wearing a mask, they wouldn't do anything to change their course of action. We still don't know where she is. By telling them, we would just be revealing ourselves, and then we wouldn't be able to help."

Shawn opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance.

A commotion had broken out down the hall, by the chief's office. Seconds later, FBI agents started pouring out of the room, speaking urgently to each other and through comms.

"What's going on?" Gus asked Juliet.

She crossed her arms, saying, "Why do you always ask me questions like that?"

"Questions like what?"

"That I obviously can't answer. I've been right here the whole time, just like you; how would I know?"

Gus looked pensive for a moment. "I—sorry, I don't—I guess I just feel like you know everything." He glanced at her sheepishly.

"Oh." Her face softened.

"Hey guys," Shawn said, smirking; "can we save the lovey-dovey for later, 'cause otherwise I'm gonna feel like I'm neglecting Lassy-face here." He elbowed the detective lightly.

Lassiter flushed, and pulled away.

Giggling at his expression, Juliet apologized and turned back to observe the scene in front of them. "Maybe they got a call," she mused.

Shawn perked up at that. "Let's follow them!"

"I don't think—" Gus started.

"C'mon!" Shawn called, already halfway down the hallway.

Shaking their heads and sighing, they took off after him.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Clint sighed as he saw several cars pull up outside the bar. _Why does everything happen here?_ Reaching under the counter he pulled out a pile of papers held together by a rubber band. He removed one sheet and returned the rest to their previous location.

Minutes later, a group of men came through the door together. The man in front approached Clint, asking seriously, "Are you the bartender, Clint Hill?"

"That's right," Clint nodded. "And you must be the FBI."

"Yes, I'm Agent Grist." The man placed a piece of paper in front of Clint. "Do you see the man who was in here?"

Clint gazed down at the eight photos arranged on the paper. The subjects all looked rather similar: white, male, brown hair. He spotted the man from earlier immediately, in the bottom left-hand corner. Pointing at it, he said confidently, "That's him."

"Are you sure?" Grist pressed. "Take your time."

"Don't have to; it's him. Same as the one they showed on TV," Clint replied, jerking his head in that direction.

"Alright. Thank you for calling."

"Glad to," Clint said. "I hope you find that little girl; reminds me of my own."

Grist nodded in response. "I'll need your full name, phone number, addre—" he stopped in surprise as Clint handed him a piece of paper with all the information already on it. "I guess this isn't your first time dealing with police," he said wryly, folding the paper and tucking it into his notebook.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Nowhere near."

The agent chuckled. "We'll keep in touch; let us know right away if he shows up again."

"Will do," Clint promised. "It's not likely, though. We didn't part on the best terms."

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Shawn turned away in disappointment. The table where he was sitting had been a perfect vantage point; he had managed to see and hear everything. Standing up, he left a tip and snuck out the door while the agent and the bartender were still talking.

Gus, Juliet, and Lassiter gathered around him when he arrived at the meet-point they had agreed upon earlier, a few blocks down the street.

"So, what's the story?" Gus asked quickly.

"Nothing helpful," Shawn answered. "Warren was in the bar a while ago, but they don't know where he is now, and there's been no sign of Annie."

Juliet looked upset. "If they'd gotten the Alert out sooner, we might have caught him!"

"Maybe," Lassiter said grimly; "but they didn't, so we just have to work with what we have."

"What _do_ we have?" Gus looked at Shawn.

Shawn counted off on his fingers as he spoke: "We have…what Joe Warren looks like, where he was last seen, where Annie was last seen, the car, the—wait…"

Juliet's eyes lit up and she clapped happily. "You got something, didn't you?"

"Well…not really," he said slowly. "I have an idea…"

"Let's hear it," Lassiter encouraged.

Shawn hesitated before speaking. "Here's the thing…"

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

The man walked down a narrow alley between two buildings. Looking up at the sky, he grinned at the sight of dark storm clouds. He lifted his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled deeply. As he reached the end of the alley where it intersected with a larger street, he dropped the cigarette and crushed it with his heel. He turned onto the street and strolled down it, peering aimlessly through store windows. A TV screen flickered in one, and he paused to watch it. After a moment, he started to walk again, and then stopped in his tracks and looked back.

His own face stared back at him, with his name displayed in bold letters across the screen.

Joe Warren turned pale as the news program continued. When it was over he glanced nervously from side to side. Hurriedly, he returned to the alley. He thought for a few seconds and then proceeded to make his way along back roads and more alleyways.

Arriving successfully at his destination, he examined it carefully. He was in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. Trying to recall the details from his single previous visit, he strode carefully along the wall on the right until he reached a black door without a knob. He lifted his fist and rapped sharply on it three times.

"Who's there?" inquired a voice from the other side.

"Joe Warren."

After a moment of silence, the door clicked and swung open. Stepping through, Joe pulled it closed with the knob on the inside.

"Aren't you supposed to be in jail?" asked the man standing in front of him.

Joe chuckled. "Been there, done that."

"So what're you doing here?"

"I need a place to stay for a while," Joe told him.

"Okay, wait here. I gotta go check something in the back."

Joe nodded, and watched pensively as the man left. After a waiting for only a moment, he followed quietly. Arriving outside a small office-like room, Joe stopped and stood next to the wall, listening.

"He's here," said the man he had followed.

Joe started. He hadn't seen anyone else there when he had glanced in.

"A few minutes ago," the man continued, as if he were answering someone.

Realizing he was on the phone, Joe stiffened at the words.

"Okay." The phone clicked as it was hung up.

When the man stepped out of the room, Joe was waiting. Grabbing him by the throat, he threw him violently up against the wall. His eyes flickered as the man reached for his belt. Joe's hand darted forward and he pulled out the hidden gun his captive had been trying to get to.

The man cursed as Joe held it to his head.

"Desert eagle point oh five, nice," Joe stated calmly. "Now, I'm sure you know the power of this beauty. Can you imagine the damage it would do this close?"

The man gulped nervously, his eyes tracing the path of the gun as Joe ran the muzzle slowly down his temple and across his throat.

"So, tell me…what is going on? Who were you talking to? Why would you tell someone I am here?"

Joe chuckled at the man's silence. "Come now, it will be much easier if you just answer me. After all, you may like your head, but I do not happen to share that affinity."

Sweat beaded on the forehead of the other man, but still, he said nothing.

"Hmm, interesting," Joe remarked, grasping the man's jaw firmly with his free hand. "Someone holds the key to this lock." He gazed into the eyes in front of him. "But no worries; there are other ways of getting in."

Cocking the gun, he stepped back and then shrugged. "You had your chance." He aimed and fired two shots.

The man screamed in pain as he collapsed to the ground.

"Oh shut up," Joe said coldly. "You're alive, aren't you? If you're smart, you may even be able to walk again, but if you're not…" he aimed the weapon; "let me put it this way…are you fond of your hands?"

The man groaned and lifted his hand, flattening it against the wall and giving him an easy target.

Joe lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn't used to finding people so loyal…either that or the man was terrified of whoever was keeping him quiet. It would not be a problem, though. Sooner or later, they all caved; they always did. As he pulled the trigger, something stung his neck, causing him to lose his concentration. The bullet ricocheted off the wall, missing his target completely. Joe raised a hand to his neck in confusion, staggering. Seconds later, he fell heavily to the floor and blacked out.

The gaze of the wounded man followed his descent and then snapped back up. His eyes widened in recognition.

"Thank God! What took you so long?" he exclaimed with relief.

"Did you tell him anything?"

"No, nothing," the man said.

The newcomers glanced at each other.

The man struggled unsuccessfully to get up. "Hey, you wanna give me a hand here?"

The leader of the group stepped forward and picked the gun off the floor, where it had fallen out of Joe's hand.

"Sorry," he said, pointing it at the man without a trace of emotion. "We have no need for you anymore."

The man froze in horror as he pulled the trigger.

Handing the gun to someone else, the leader gestured towards the lifeless body.

"You know what to do."

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

"…I'm gonna need one of those things with the pictures."

Lassiter, Juliet, and Gus stared at Shawn blankly.

"C'mon, you know…those…uh…what the heck are they called? Do they even have names? I bet they don't give them names on purpose just to confuse—"

"Shawn!" Gus interrupted.

"What?"

"We have no idea what you're talking about."

"Okay, look…the cops use them all the time. The FBI dude just showed one to the bartender…it had a picture of Warren and a bunch of other guys that look kinda like him. The person you're talking to is supposed to point out the picture they recognize…"

"Ohhh," Lassiter and Juliet said, understanding at the same time.

"We can get one at the station," Lassiter told him.

"Sweet! Let's go!" Shawn tripped as Lassiter pulled him back by his elbow. "What?" he asked, trying to free his arm from the other man's grip.

"You haven't told us what your plan is," Lassiter reminded him.

"I have to tell you? Can't you guys just follow my lead?" Seeing their expressions, Shawn said, "I guess not," and sighed. "Fine, I was just thinking that since the FBI is sure that Warren is the kidnapper and they already know the plates of his car, they probably haven't checked with the impoundment lot; and since we know Annie was taken in the car, but the driver was wearing a mask, we could find out who was working when the car was picked up, and show them the pictures…"

"And find out if it really was Warren!" Juliet finished for him.

"Exactly."

"Alright," Lassiter said; "let's hope this gets us something new."

Getting into the Head Detective's car, they rode back to the station. Lassiter told the rest of them to wait while he went to get the paper they needed.

Shawn sat on someone's desk and fiddled with the objects on it as Gus and Juliet talked. Someone called his name sharply, causing him to jump in surprise and slide awkwardly off the desk.

"Oh…hi dad, what are you still doing here?"

"Never mind that, why are _you_ here? You know you're off the case." Henry looked at him sternly, waiting for an answer and completely ignoring Gus and Juliet.

"Uh, well…I'm just…helping...notwiththecaseofcourse—" Shawn stuttered, trying to come up with a valid excuse. He decided that claiming aliens had dragged him back probably wouldn't appease the former policeman.

Suddenly, Henry looked up and Shawn felt an arm settle on his shoulders.

"Time to go, Shawn; stop dawdling. This may not be the case you wanted, but it's still important."

Shawn sighed gratefully at Lassiter's intervention. "Right, sorry. Gotta go, dad; bye."

"Wait," Henry said, stopping them. "You're working on a different case?"

Shawn opened his mouth to answer, but Lassiter spoke first.

"That's correct. If you'll excuse us, we do have to get going."

Henry nodded, almost reluctantly. "Just don't forget you still have a job to finish," he said.

"Kay," Shawn replied, already heading in the opposite direction. Once they were outside he said in annoyance, "Man, is it not enough for him that he got to order me around for 18 years? Now he has to come to my job and bother me too?"

Gus walked up to Shawn, a look of understanding on his face. "He's not here now; _you're_ the one solving the cases, not him."

Shawn smiled back at his friend. "I know. Thanks, buddy."

"No problem."

Getting back on track, Shawn walked to the car. The others followed, and they set off for the impoundment lot.

When they arrived, they headed over to question the officer at the main entrance.

"Can I help you?" asked the officer.

Shawn and Lassiter started to speak at the same time.

Grinning, Shawn bowed slightly, allowing the detective to take the lead.

The corner of Lassiter's mouth twitched slightly in what might have been construed as a smile by those who knew him well. Turning to the officer, he showed the man his badge.

"Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, SBPD. We need to ask a few questions."

"Alright, what do you need to know?"

"Do you have a record of who was on duty when the car with license plate number J-L-K-0-2-5-1 was picked up?"

"Yeah, hold on a second," the man affirmed, shuffling through some papers. Finding the right one he ran his finger down the list. "You said J-L-K-0-2-5-1, right?"

"Yup," Shawn answered.

"…5-1…here it is…Jeremy signed that one out—Officer Danes." The officer pointed him out, saying, "He's over there if you want to talk to him."

Thanking him, they walked over to the other officer. Lassiter introduced himself once again, and explained that they needed to talk to him about the car.

"Do you remember who picked it up?" the detective asked.

"What kind of car was it?"

"A silver Toyota Camry."

"Oh, yeah," the officer said. "I remember that one; it was picked up on Sunday. The driver…I think it was a Warren…Joe Warren, if I'm not mistaken."

Shawn and Lassiter exchanged glances while Gus looked at Juliet in disappointment. Lassiter pulled out the paper with the photos on it.

"One last thing…would you mind pointing him out?"

Officer Danes seemed confused by the request, but agreed. Taking the paper, he scanned the faces carefully. Shaking his head, he said, "He's not on here."

Juliet's eyes widened, and Gus squeezed her hand nervously.

"You're sure?" Lassiter said urgently.

"Absolutely. Although, the guy in the bottom left here actually looks a lot like him…in fact, I think I recognize him…but he's not the one who got the car."

Grimly, Lassiter took the paper back. "We're going to need you to come back to the station. Can you get off now?"

"I guess so; Kyle can cover my shift. What's going on?"

"Long story," Lassiter started, leading the way back to the car.

As the others followed behind them, Gus said slowly, "So if Joe Warren isn't the one who picked up the car, who has Annie? And where _is_ Warren?"

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Agent Grist walked back into the police station where he had set up a temporary operations center. As he headed back to his desk, another agent hurried up to him and quickly brought him up to date.

"Do any of the calls seem legitimate?" Grist asked.

"We're still investigating, but none have led to anything yet," the agent answered.

"Let me know if something comes through."

"Yessir."

Grist watched the agent leave, and then strode down a hallway into an empty room. Locking the door, he hit the speed dial on his phone. After two rings, someone answered.

"Yes?"

"We have Warren," Grist said shortly.

"Good." The dial tone sounded as the person on the other side of the line hung up.

Grist closed the phone and exited the room.

**To Be Continued…**

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait; this is actually pretty hard to write—lots of details. Anyway, I'm nearing the end of this semester and I have finals coming up soon, ugh, so I don't know when the next chapter will be ready. Review please! I want to know what y'all are thinking!**


	4. Sheridan

Gus entered the station, sighing as he found it to be in the same state as it had been when he left. If not for the group of men in suits occupying a rather large corner of the building, one would assume it was just business as usual. There was no other sign that mere hours ago a little girl had gone missing, and that there was currently an investigation and a massive search going on. The regular officers of the SBPD were no longer involved in the case, as they were needed for all of their common everyday duties. Gus had found this a bit confusing at first; it had seemed to him that in a case like this, all other crimes would simply disappear, allowing the police to deal with what was clearly most important. But that was not how it worked, and he had to concede that the thought had been slightly ridiculous. The thieves were still stealing, and the drug dealers were still selling—they weren't about to stop. It wasn't as though the police could just call a "time out." So while the FBI agents continued to take calls and follow leads pertaining to Annie's disappearance, the members of the SBPD dealt with minor crimes and traffic problems. Well, most of them that is. In a small area--the Head Detective's to be precise--a minor rebellion was taking place.

Walking over to join his co-conspirators, Gus set a bag of sandwiches on the desk.

"Thanks man," Shawn said, lunging to grab one, forcing Juliet and Lassiter to have to jump back to avoid him. "I'm starving," he added, ignoring their glares as he tore open the wrapping.

"Well, maybe if you got up earlier you would have had time for breakfast," Gus chided.

"I wamph uph earwy," Shawn said with his mouth full.

Gus crinkled his nose in disgust. "You know, Shawn, it's easier to understand people when they talk without food in their mouth."

"I said, I _was_ up early," Shawn repeated indignantly. "Dad called at nine-thirty and forced me to go over!"

Juliet choked as Lassiter grinned. "Sorry," she said, seeing Shawn's bewildered expression. Trying to keep her face blank, she added, "So…nine-thirty is early for you, huh?"

Gus snorted. "I've called him at two in the afternoon and had him complain about me waking him up."

While Juliet laughed, Lassiter's grin grew. "You think that's something…I set the alarm once to—" he stopped, remembering where they were. Glancing over at Officer Danes, who seemed to not be listening, he coughed nervously and said, "Well, you get the idea."

Calming down a bit, they finished eating, and Lassiter got up to check on Officer Danes, who was concentrating on Lassiter's computer screen. They had set up the system to filter through anyone who had a record and fit a description similar to the man Danes had seen. Even with the limited results, however, it was taking a while to find a match. The officer had been sitting at the desk for more than forty minutes.

"How's it going?" Lassiter inquired, coming up behind him to peer at the screen.

"All right," the officer responded. "I've recognized a few, but none are the guy you're looking for. Still got a lot to go through, though. Good thing you've got me and not a civilian or you'd have one angry customer in your hands by now."

Lassiter gave a short laugh. "I know the type. Thanks for your help."

"Sure."

Lassiter clapped him on the shoulder and re-joined the others. About fifteen minutes later, their conversation was interrupted when Danes suddenly exclaimed, "That's him!"

They rushed over to look.

"Who is he?" Lassiter asked.

"His name's Greg Sheridan," Danes replied.

As they crowded behind the officer, leaning over to see better, Gus commented, "He does look like Warren."

Lassiter nodded grimly. "There's no way this guy planned all of this out by himself. Something else is going on here. Look at his record—he's got a decent rap sheet, but he's never been involved in anything major like this."

"So what now?" Gus asked, glancing from Lassiter to Juliet.

Reaching forward, Lassiter took the mouse from Danes and printed the page. He turned back to face them. "Now we have something substantial to show the FBI. If we find Greg Sheridan…we could find Annie."

**0o0o0o0o0o**

Agent Grist checked his watch. "All right people, it's five o'clock. The girl's been missing for about seven hours now. How are the calls going?"

Just as an agent hurried up and started talking, a man Grist recognized as the Head Detective of the SBPD walked in, followed by two men he didn't know and a young blond woman who seemed to be a detective as well. Putting his hand up to silence the agent, Grist stepped forward to greet them. "Head Detective—" he started as a greeting, offering his hand.

"Lassiter," the detective said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "Carlton Lassiter."

"Right, what can I do for you, Detective Lassiter?" he asked.

"Actually, I believe we might be able to do something for you," Lassiter told him.

"Oh?" Grist raised his eyebrows. He listened silently as the detective explained how he and his colleagues had pursued several leads on their own, and discovered something of interest. His thoughts whirled as Lassiter talked, and his alarm grew when he was handed a sheet of paper with a face he knew only too well. Hiding his feelings behind a stoic mask, he waited for the detective to finish speaking.

"So…" Grist said slowly, trying not to panic. "You're saying you specifically disobeyed orders to stand down from this case, and spent the time you could have been using to fight crime pursuing meaningless leads instead."

Lassiter and the other members of his little posse stared at him in shock.

The Head Detective's face started to turn red. "Meaningless leads? Well, excuse me, but--" he stopped as Grist held his hand up, looking bored.

"You are dismissed, and don't plan on wasting any more of my time." When the detective opened his mouth angrily, Grist added, "I suggest you leave now if you have any interest whatsoever in keeping your job."

Lassiter's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Finally, clenching his jaw, he spun around and stalked out of the room.

One of the other men watched him go, and then stepped towards Grist, only to be grabbed and dragged away by the blond and the remaining man.

As soon as they were out of sight, Grist heaved a sigh of relief and leaned back against a desk. The agent who had been talking to him before approached, but Grist waved him off. Standing up, he walked into the first empty room he came across, and closed the door. Hitting the speed dial on his phone again, he peered down at the paper he still held.

Someone on the other side of the line picked up. "What is it?"

Still looking at the face on the paper, Grist said nervously, "We have a problem…"

**0o0o0o0o0o**

"What the hell was that?" Lassiter exclaimed furiously, standing back at his desk.

Gus and Juliet eyed him uneasily from a few feet away. Only Shawn was brave enough, or perhaps foolish enough, to approach him.

"Look, Lassy--"

"No Spencer!" the detective shouted, directing his rage towards the other man. "Don't 'Lassy' me, you almost cost me my job!"

"Whoa there," Shawn said, putting his hands up and backing away. "What are you--"

"Just get the hell out of here you son of a b--"

"Detective Lassiter!"

They all turned to see Chief Vick staring at Lassiter, looking shocked. "What is going on here?!"

While Lassiter argued with Vick, Shawn slipped away unnoticed. When he got outside, he walked to the car in a daze. Realizing that he didn't have the keys, he leaned back against the side and slid down to the ground. Folding his legs to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them, rested his head against the driver's door, and closed his eyes.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

When Gus finally managed to tear his gaze away from the scene in front of him, he looked around to find that his friend was nowhere in sight. Getting a sinking feeling, he excused himself from Juliet, whose eyes were still glued to the scene. A quick walk around the station verified that Shawn wasn't there. Stepping outside, Gus peered around and then walked to the car. He relaxed slightly as he saw Shawn resting against the side.

"Shawn?"

Getting no answer, he crouched down next to him. "Shawn," he repeated softly.

Without opening his eyes, Shawn said dully, "He's never yelled at me before. Not like that. I mean, we've had arguments, and you know how he got annoyed at me in the station…before we got together. But…that was different."

Gus sighed. Not knowing what else to do, he reached over and pulled Shawn into his arms. "I'm sorry," he said, patting him awkwardly on the back.

Shawn sniffed and mumbled something into Gus's shirt.

"What?" Gus said.

Shawn leaned back and looked seriously into his friend's eyes.

"Would it be wrong for me to kiss you right now?" Shawn asked innocently.

Gus gave him the look he saved especially for Shawn when he was being crazy or ridiculous or annoying or, well, Shawn. "In so many ways."

"Oh come on, you know you want me to," Shawn teased.

"No, no I don't…Shawn, Shawn!" Gus pushed him away as Shawn leaned towards him making kissing noises.

Shawn grinned at the slightly panicked look on his friend's face. "Gus, don't be such a scaredy-cat. I was just kidding. Besides, if we hooked up, who would be left to be my best friend?" Jumping up, he started tugging at the door handle, regardless of the fact that it was obviously locked. "So," he said excitedly. "Ready to go?"

Gus stood up, glaring at him. "Would you stop that? You know it's locked. Go where?"

"To follow our next meaningless lead, of course!" Shawn grinned.

Gus couldn't help but smile back. Grabbing the keys and unlocking the car, he got in after Shawn and started the engine. Looking at his friend, he said, "Which way?"

**0o0o0o0o0o**

Lassiter sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He knew he was lucky he hadn't been suspended after everything that had happened, but all he could think about was Shawn. He groaned as he agonized over what to do. His first impulse had been to go after the younger man, but he realized that leaving his job was probably not the best idea at the moment. He had picked up his phone to call Shawn, had even dialed the number, but he hung up after only one ring. _What would I say?_ he wondered wearily.

Suddenly, a quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. "Detective Lassiter?"

He looked up to see his partner peering at him in concern. He sighed. "Yes, O'Hara?"

"Um…we have a case," she said carefully.

Lassiter jumped up hastily, nearly knocking a stack of papers off his desk. "What are you waiting for?" he said sharply. "Let's go."

He could feel her eyes boring into his back as he grabbed his jacket. _It doesn't matter,_ he told himself. _At least I have something to distract me now. _As he strode towards the door, O'Hara nearly had to jog to keep up with his pace. "So, what's the story?" he asked her.

"We got an anonymous call," she told him as they left the station and headed for the cruiser. "Someone found a body."

**0o0o0o0o0o**

They arrived at their destination within minutes; Lassiter had used the siren despite the look Juliet had given him when he put it on the roof of the car. Luckily, she had the good sense to stay silent. Normally Lassiter would not have used it in a non-emergency situation such as this, but he couldn't stand having more time to think; his mind was driving him crazy. He just wanted something to keep him busy—very very busy.

CSU was already there, and officers were putting tape up even though it wasn't likely that anyone would be around in this isolated area. The scene of the crime wasn't even outside—it was in an abandoned warehouse.

Fortunately for the officer guarding the entrance, he recognized Lassiter immediately, and let him through right away. In the mood he was in at the moment, Lassiter wasn't sure what he would have done if the man had stopped him. He could be sure none of the possible situations that had flashed through his mind had involved simply showing the officer his badge.

As he walked through the warehouse he glanced around, scanning the surroundings. Ignoring O'Hara, who was still following behind him, he stepped through a handle-less black door, which had been propped open with a box. Noting a video camera in a corner near the ceiling of the room, slightly hidden behind a lamp, he said curtly, "I'll need to see that tape." Not waiting for an answer, he continued through the next door. It wasn't his problem if O'Hara failed to keep up.

Spotting the body of the victim against a wall, Lassiter strode over briskly and started to question one of the officers milling around.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

After taking a look at the body, Juliet returned to the room with the camera. Peering up at it, she scowled and grabbed a chair. She placed the chair underneath and then stood on it, testing it quickly beforehand to make sure it could hold her weight. "Don't know why I bother," she muttered. Reaching into the camera, she pulled out the tape and inspected it briefly. It was a standard tape—a standard video camera, actually. Glancing up again, she paused, something bothering her. _Why is there a video camera in a supposedly empty warehouse? And why not an actual security camera? This is just a hand-held camcorder—nothing special. The tape wouldn't even last very long, so what's the point? Unless someone wanted to tape something specific… _She tried to find how the camera was attached to the wall, and sighed when she saw that it had been connected to some sort of device that would need a screwdriver to be removed. Thinking for a moment, she stepped down from the chair and hurried outside, calling over the first CSU member she saw.

Minutes later, she returned to the room, this time with a screwdriver. _Good thing they had one,_ she thought as she got back on the chair and started to remove the camera from the wall. When she was done unscrewing it, Juliet took it down and, pulling the tape from her pocket, placed it back in the camera. Sitting down on the chair, she rewound it and then pushed the play button.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

Lassiter was crouching near the body, examining it, when Juliet rushed over to him.

"Detective Lassiter!" she said excitedly.

He didn't bother looking up. Annoyed by the interruption, he growled, "Later, O'Hara."

"You have to see this! It's--"

"Can it wait?" Lassiter interrupted, his tone suggesting that it had better. "As you can see, I'm busy tr--"

"It's Warren!" Juliet continued, too excited to care about his mood.

Turning, Lassiter looked at her sharply. "What?"

"Look!" she showed him the video camera; she had paused it on the face of the man who was clearly Warren. "He was here," she told him. "Maybe he was the one who did this." She gestured at the scene in front of them.

Lassiter stood up, suddenly feeling better. "We're going to need the results on those fingerprints ASAP. I know someone who might be able to push them through faster. "And I'll need this," he added, taking the camera from Juliet's hands. As he started to walk away, he paused and looked back, clearing his throat lightly. "Oh, and O'Hara?"

"Yes sir?"

"Good job," he said shortly, before walking off.

Juliet smiled as she watched him go. It was a start.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

"Turn right up ahead," Shawn said absently, staring out the window as the scenery rolled past.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going yet?" Gus asked, following his directions.

"And ruin the fun?" Shawn teased. "Nah."

Gus rolled his eyes. They became silent again. As the minutes passed, he tensed up, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. When Shawn still didn't say anything, Gus cracked. "Shawn, why don't you just--"

"No," his friend said darkly, before he could finish.

"But he—" Gus tried again.

"No. I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Shawn said, leaving no room for argument.

Gus sighed, but stayed quiet.

"Two more lefts and then we're there," Shawn muttered a little while later.

Several streets later, Gus parked and turned to face his friend. "Shawn, why are we at a prison?"

Shawn looked back at him sadly and put a hand on Gus's shoulder. "I'm sorry, buddy," he said mournfully. "I can't hide you anymore…right is right and…wrong is wrong. Don't worry, you'll get out in a few years." Patting his shoulder, Shawn turned back to the door and got out of the car.

Gus got out on his side. Glaring at his friend, he said, "Shawn--"

"Come now, Gus; we can do this the easy way or the hard way…" Shawn walked over and started to steer Gus towards the entrance.

"Shawn—"

"Gus, do I need to call for the nice men in uniforms to come get you?" This time Shawn couldn't hide a grin. "Ow! What was that for?" The grin became a scowl as he rubbed his arm where Gus had just punched him.

Gus scowled back at him. "Stop messing around. Why are we really here?"

Shawn opened his mouth.

"Seriously," Gus added firmly.

"Okay, okay," Shawn surrendered. "We're here to check in on David Jones, one of Greg Sheridan's known associates."

"Greg Sher—the guy who took Warren's car? But are you sure we can—I mean, that FBI agent said—wait, how do you know who his associates are?" Gus stopped talking, looking puzzled.

Shawn laughed at him. "Since when do we listen to what the cops tell us? And I know his associates 'cause I saw that paper Lassy printed out, remember?"

"But you only saw the paper for—never mind." Gus shook his head. "Please tell me you have a plan."

Shawn just grinned at him and started walking up to the entrance of the building. When they reached the front door, Shawn pushed through, and, putting on his most innocent Bambi expression, approached the main desk. "Hi," he said shyly to the officer sitting behind it. "I'm here for a conjugal visit."

**0o0o0o0o0o**

Sitting back in the car, Gus glanced down at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Shawn had been in the prison for over an hour and a half. Somehow he had managed to talk the officer into letting him see Jones alone, leaving Gus behind to worry. Just as Gus was considering going back in to inquire after his friend, Shawn exited the building and jogged towards him.

"Finally!" Gus exclaimed. He turned pale as Shawn got closer. "Shawn, your jeans are unzipped…"

Shawn looked down. "Whoops," he said, fixing it.

Gus stared at him. "You didn't seriously—what did you--"

Shrugging, Shawn sat back in the passenger seat. "No big deal." When he saw that Gus was still gaping at him, he said, "What?"

"What?" Gus spluttered. "What? What do you mean, what? You said you were going in for a conjugal visit, and you come out with—with—"

As Gus's face started to turn red, Shawn smirked at him. "Dude, you're making it way too easy for me. Relax, I didn't do anything; I opened the zipper right before I came out. I'm just playing with you."

Gus eyed him suspiciously. "You better be. So if you didn't really…do anything…what did you do?"

"Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?"

"I think so, why?" Gus rummaged around in his briefcase and held out a blank sheet. "A pen okay?"

"Sure." Taking the pen and paper, Shawn started writing. Filling the front of the paper, he turned it over and kept writing.

Gus leaned forward, trying to see what he had written. "What are all those names for?"

"They're more people Sheridan associates with, and the places where he likes to hang out," Shawn told him as he finished scribbling.

"Nice," Gus said. "How'd you get that guy…uh, what was his name?"

"David Jones."

"Yeah, how'd you get him to tell you all this?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Shawn said, pretending to be hurt. "I have my ways."

"Fine," Gus replied, shaking his head. "Let's just get going."

"Okay," Shawn agreed. "We can try this place first." He pointed at the name of a bar he had written down. "It's pretty close."

Within minutes, they were back on the road. Looking over at Shawn, Gus coughed awkwardly. "So…uh…nothing happened?"

Shawn sighed. It was going to be a long night.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

Lassiter stared out his window at Shawn's apartment. He had been sitting in the car with the engine running for he didn't even know how long. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned the key. _Next step, get out of the car,_ he thought to himself. He could have just gone back to his own apartment, but he didn't want to wait any longer to talk to Shawn. Groaning, he opened the door and forced himself to get out. After locking it and stalling for several minutes by checking and re-checking to make sure it had really locked, he ambled up the path to the apartment. The lights had been off since he had arrived, and he was pretty sure Shawn wasn't there, but he knocked anyway, hesitating slightly beforehand. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, debating whether or not to use his key. Realizing he didn't know when Shawn would come, and knowing he would lose his nerve if we went back to wait in the car, he let himself in.

He went straight to the fridge and grabbed a beer, then sat down on the couch to wait. When the silence started to get to him, he mulled over the case to distract himself. The fingerprints they had found on the body had indeed been Warren's. Lassiter was at an impasse: everything seemed to be pointing him toward Annie's case, but he couldn't bring himself to go against the chief's, let alone Grist's orders to leave well enough alone. What he wanted most of all was to catch the bad guy, but the FBI seemed to be going in the completely wrong direction. His life had been simple before Shawn came along—so goddamn simple—he did his job, and he did it well. He followed the rulebook (to a certain extent), and he followed orders (when he agreed with them). Now here he was questioning authority and disregarding some of the most basic rules he had learned in the academy. When he took the time to actually think about it, though, a little girl's life was at stake, and when asked to make a choice between the badge and what his gut was telling him, a criminal justice degree didn't mean squat.

When the door opened, Lassiter almost didn't hear it. He looked up right as Shawn stepped inside. The younger man closed the door without looking directly at Lassiter; he didn't seem surprised to see him. _Oh…the car,_ Lassiter remembered. _At least he came in anyway._

"Shawn--" he murmured.

Still avoiding eye contact, Shawn turned into the kitchen without responding.

Lassiter grimaced and stood up. Walking over, he paused a few feet away from Shawn, whose back was to him. "Shawn—" Lassiter reached out a hand to touch him on the shoulder, but Shawn flinched away.

"It wasn't fair," Shawn said, finally turning to face him.

"I know," Lassiter agreed softly. "It wasn't fair. I was taking my anger out on you because I couldn't on Grist or Karen…and that's no excuse, I know…but…I-I'm sorry." His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out again. "I really am."

Shawn observed him silently for a moment before nodding. "Okay."

"Okay?" Lassiter repeated after him, unsure what he meant.

"As long as you promise never to do it again—" Shawn waited for an affirmation.

"I promise," Lassiter said solemnly.

"Then I guess we're hunky-dory," Shawn grinned. "And tell you what…take it out on Gus next time--"

Lassiter raised his eyebrows.

"I'm kidding," Shawn said, raising his hands in surrender. "Just kidding!"

Shaking his head, Lassiter cuffed Shawn lightly on the back of his head.

Shawn scowled playfully at him. "You're going to pay for that…"

"Oh?" Lassiter started backing away, trying to hide a smile. "How?" Giving Shawn one last glance, he headed towards the bedroom.

"You're evil, you know that?" Shawn shouted after him. "Evil!"

"Yes, and?" Lassiter called back.

Shawn grinned and walked forward in slow motion.

Lassiter, now devoid of his shirt, stuck his head back out of the room. He scowled as he noticed Shawn's pace. "Or we could just talk about the case and what you've been doing all day--"

Shawn's eyes widened and he rushed past Lassiter saying quickly, "No that's okay we can talk tomorrow."

"You sure?" Lassiter inquired, leaning back against the doorframe and folding his arms. "Because--" he stopped as Shawn turned and moved towards him. Putting a hand on Lassiter's chest, Shawn whispered, "Don't tease…you know I always win."

Lassiter knew.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

Fluorescent lights flickered in the quiet station as officers finished up paperwork and janitors rolled cleaning supplies across the floor. Only one section of the building still held a decent-sized group of people. The FBI agents were no longer fielding calls – tips had diminished along with the fading light outside—but there was plenty of investigating still going on.

Agent Grist woke with a start as his phone rang right by his ear. He had been taking a quick nap while he wasn't needed. Flipping the phone open, he mumbled blearily, "Hello?"

A low voice answered without any sort of introduction. "Two guys were here earlier, askin' 'bout Greg Sheridan. Thought you'd wanna know."

Grist sat up and said sharply, "What? Who were they? What did you tell them?"

"Dunno…said they were friends of some guy…David Jones, I think it was. I tol' them I hadn't seen Greg for a couple-a weeks."

Trying to keep calm, Grist paused before speaking. Something occurred to him, and he asked, "Were they cops?"

The other man snorted. "Not a chance."

"Then…was it a black man in a suit and a kind of scruffy looking white guy?" Grist continued.

"Yeah," the man said, surprised. "You know them?"

Grist sighed and rubbed at his temples. "Unfortunately."

"So what do we do?"

"Give me second!" Grist snapped. Something had to be done about this…somehow these men were finding things they weren't supposed to find. He needed to cover the tracks, clear up loose ends, throw them off. And that meant…

"We need Sheridan out of the picture…" Grist said slowly.

"Out of—you mean—"

"Yes," Grist interrupted. "He served his purpose…we don't need him anymore. Eliminate him."

"You got it."

**To Be Continued…**

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

**Author's Note: Sorry again for the wait! This is the longest chapter yet—hope it was good! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Silence

Monday morning the sun rose as it always did, slowly lighting the sky with a myriad of colors and causing the dew covering every blade of grass to twinkle and shine. Oblivious as usual, Shawn turned in his sleep, subconsciously avoiding the evil brightness that was starting to show through the window. Lassiter chuckled softly and shifted in return, moving closer and draping an arm over the younger man's chest. Shawn smiled and snuggled into his embrace. They lay there for a while longer, Lassiter content to simply watch Shawn's face as he slept. Eventually, though, he forced himself to get up, sighing as he left the warmth of the bed. After pulling the covers back up over Shawn, he turned on the coffeemaker and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. As he got dressed he looked at Shawn and paused before putting on his shirt. It was going to take something special to get him up early. Finishing up, he grabbed his keys and jogged out of the apartment.

He glanced at his watch on the way back and grimaced before heading back into the bedroom.

"Shawn?" Lassiter said tentatively. The sleeping pseudo-psychic showed no sign of having heard him. This was not going to go well. "Shawn?" he tried again, slightly louder.

"Mrampffumhuh?" Shawn mumbled into the pillow.

Lassiter struggled between amusement and apprehension. When he was awake, the younger man was the most carefree and easygoing person Lassiter had ever met, but half asleep he was a force to be reckoned with. Putting a hand on Shawn's shoulder, he shook him slightly. "Shawn, I'm sorry, but—"

"Lassy?" Shawn squinted blearily at the man standing above him. "What are you—what time…" his gaze fell on the clock sitting on the bedside table.

Lassiter cursed himself for not having thought of moving it.

Shawn choked. "Six fifteen? It's six fifteen? Wha--what in the name of Mork & Mindy could you _possibly_ want at _six fifteen_ in the morning?"

"Well," Lassiter said calmly, "Maybe you don't remember, but there's a little girl missing…"

Shawn stared at him, incomprehension on his face.

Scenes from the discovery channel popped into Lassiter's head. This would probably be the time to start backing away slowly, but no-- "…I thought maybe it would be a good idea to try and find her--"

"At _six fifteen a.m.??_"

Speaking slowly so as to make sure Shawn understood him, Lassiter continued: "48 hours, Shawn. And that's a regular case. This is not a regular case."

Groaning, Shawn sat up. "Okay, okay, geez. No need to pull the guilty card." He rubbed a hand through his hair and yawned. "But you owe me, big time."

Lassiter smiled. Time for the secret weapon.

"What?" Shawn glared at him. "Just because you got me up without a fight this time doesn't mean—"

Reaching down to the bag he had set on the floor next to him, the detective pulled out a smoothie.

"Is that—" Snatching it out of his hand, Shawn practically inhaled the drink through the straw. He grinned as he tasted the pineapple. "How did you get it? Stores don't open this early do they?"

Lassiter sat down next to him, trying to hold back a smug grin. "No. I had to practically beat the door down until the manager came out." _Thank god he was there_. "He refused to let me in at first but when I explained it was for you, he agreed to make it himself. How often do you go there anyway?"

"A lot," Shawn answered happily in between sips. "Plus, I worked there for a while."

"Right, I should have known."

Shawn grinned and leaned against Lassiter, resting his head on his shoulder as he drank. "So, what's the plan for today?"

Lassiter put an arm around him as they talked. "Well, I suppose I'll have to go into work as usual."

"What? Why?" Shawn tilted his head to look up at the other man.

Lifting an eyebrow at him, Lassiter replied, "What else would I do? It's my job, and the chief ordered me off the case."

Shawn rolled his eyes. _Cops_. "Have I taught you nothing? Just ask for a day off and come with me and Gus."

"A day off…" Lassiter repeated slowly, as though it was the most unheard of idea in the world.

"Uh-huh."

"I don't know…I don't think I should after everything…the chief might not let me."

"So call in sick." Shawn shrugged.

"But I'm not sick." Lassiter looked at him reproachfully.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you've never used that excuse before," Shawn laughed. He glanced at Lassiter when the other man remained silent. "Oh my god, you've never…? Not even at school?"

"I wouldn't skip school," Lassiter said, indignant.

Shawn shook his head in disbelief. "Dude, you are such a cop." He stood up and offered his hand. "Come on."

"Where?" Lassiter asked suspiciously, taking the hand anyway.

"Patience, grasshopper." Shawn pulled him into the kitchen and grabbed Lassiter's cell. Letting go of Lassiter's hand, he placed the phone there instead.

"Shawn, I'm not going to--"

"Carlton," Shawn interrupted sternly.

Lassiter sighed, knowing he was beat. Hitting the speed dial, he tapped his fingers nervously against the counter as it rang. Shawn smirked, but took his hand again, squeezing it lightly. Calming down slightly, Lassiter managed to keep his voice steady when the chief answered.

"Hi Chief, it's Detective Lass--" he hesitated slightly, distracted as Shawn silently pretended to cough in front of him. "—iter, Lassiter," he continued in a slightly raspy voice. He coughed lightly. "What? Oh it's just a cough…no I'm fine."

Shawn glared at him.

Lassiter raised his eyebrows in surprise as he listened. "But Chief…I don't think…yes, ma'am, I understand. If I could…no I'm not arguing. Yes ma'am--sorry, Chief. Goodb—wait, could you hold on a second, Chief?" Covering the mouthpiece, he whispered, "What is it?" to Shawn, who had been flailing his arms wildly, trying to get Lassiter's attention.

"What's going on?"

"She thinks I'm downplaying my sickness and she's refusing to let me come in to work today…"

Shawn grinned, "Ha, that's perfect. Head Detective Lassiter would never _pretend_ to be sick."

"Yeah, can I get back on now?" Lassiter asked.

"Sure—no wait!" Shawn put a hand out dramatically.

"What now?"

"Ask her if Jules can take your place today. Say it'll, I don't know, give her a chance to see if she can take the responsibility or something. That way, if we need her, she'll--"

"I get it," Lassiter said quickly, taking his hand back off the mouthpiece. "You still there, Chief?" He held the phone away from his ear for several seconds. "Right, yes, of course you would still be there since I asked you to wait. I'm sorry." He quickly told her the plan, and breathed out in relief when she agreed. "All right, thank you, Chief."

Shawn smiled at him as he hung up. "See, it wasn't so bad."

The detective snorted in a most un-Lassiter-like way. "You weren't the one talking to her."

"Fair," Shawn acknowledged. "So…" he clapped his hands once. "I've got the list of people and places…all we need is Gus and a place to start."

Lassiter nodded. "I'll take a look at the list while you talk to Mr. Guster."

"Okay." Picking up his own phone, Shawn sent his friend a quick text.

--gus u up?—

The reply came quickly.

--course I'm up, what the hell are u doing up?—

--lassy made me—

--ha, so we going?—

--yeah, come over—

--hold on—

--k—

--jules is hd today?—

--yeah—

--thanks—

--:)--

--be there soon—

--k—

By the time the doorbell rang soon after, Shawn and Lassiter had decided on a plan of action and Juliet had called, gushing happily about the Chief giving her this chance. They decided not to mention Lassiter's suggestion to the Chief, but they made sure she would keep them updated on what was going on at the station.

The first place they drove to was a small bar only ten minutes from Shawn's apartment. They got out of Lassiter's department-issued car, which he had insisted they take, just in case, and headed towards the entrance. Lassiter stepped ahead of Shawn and Gus, reaching for the door, when Shawn stopped him. "Whoa, no way, Lassy. You're waiting here."

"What are you talking about?" Lassiter said impatiently.

"Lassy, you look like a cop. No one's going to tell you anything. You've got to leave this part to us."

The detective clenched his jaw, knowing the younger man was right. All his instincts were telling him this was wrong—he should be doing it, not these civilians.

Shawn patted his arm. "We'll be fine."

"You don't know that," Lassiter replied tensely. "What if something…"

"Nothing's going to happen, Carlton," Shawn assured him seriously, looking him in the eye. "And you're right here. We won't be long."

Lassiter didn't look convinced, but he nodded stiffly, moving away from the door. Gus opened it and entered the building. Shawn started to follow him and then turned back before going in. "Don't worry," he said softly, grinning. "I'm psychic, remember?"

The detective couldn't help but smile at that, albeit wryly. He leaned his head back against the wall for a moment when Shawn was gone, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. _He's going to be fine_, he told himself firmly. _He knows how to take care of himself._ He kept his hand near his holster though, just in case, and couldn't help feeling relieved when they came out minutes later with nothing new.

Crossing the name of the bar off the list, they headed off to the next place.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

David Marshak sat up with a start, gasping as he took in his surroundings. He fell back on the bed as he realized it had only been a dream…nightmare, more like. His cheek felt wet. Lifting a hand, he wiped tear tracks away. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes, but opened them again abruptly. Remnants of what he had seen in his sleep flashed behind his eyelids. His breath hitched as he tried to forget. _That won't happen_, he told himself frantically. Shaking slightly he got up and went to the bathroom, splashing water on his face as he took in his ragged reflection. He glanced at his watch: Six forty. He'd gotten barely three hours of sleep. He stood helplessly for a moment. What was he supposed to do? Brush his teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast? If he acted like everything was normal, would it be? Annie was gone, god knows where, and life went on. All around him, people were getting ready for work, going about their business, going to…_going to school_. He sagged against the counter. He felt hands on his shoulders, and looked up to find his wife standing behind him. The look of anguish on her face brought tears to his eyes. They hadn't talked much since…all they could do was hold on to each other. Now he turned to face her, grasping her hands tightly. "Connie…"

She nodded, her mouth quivering. "I know."

"No," he shook his head, forced to look away from her gaze. "You don't…it's…it's my fault. Oh god, it's because of me that she's gone! If I hadn't…" He looked down, unable to continue.

"Hadn't what? Done your job?" Connie looked at him in pity. "You can't blame yourself for putting people like that behind bars. If anyone should be blaming themselves it's me. If I'd just kept an eye on her…if I hadn't let her wander off on her own…"

David drew her into a hug. "There's no use in talking about all these 'what ifs.' We'll just have to let the FBI do their job, and hope that Annie comes back to us safely." He had to keep up face for Connie's sake, at least.

They held onto each other for a while longer, then finally separated, Connie to shower, and David to get dressed. Looking in the closet, his eyes paused on the suits. He wouldn't be going in to work today. Reaching past them, he randomly chose a shirt and slipped it on with a pair of jeans before heading back out of the room.

He sat down at the table, staring numbly at the newspaper, but unable to concentrate on the words. What was the point? Only more bad news…always bad. To find anything happy he'd have to flip through pages of war losses and accidents. Even if he read a story on…good lord, he couldn't even think of anything happy…he didn't think he'd be able to finish it. How could he allow himself to be anything but guilty? It was as if being happy was somehow a betrayal of Annie. He had no right—not when she was---he snapped himself out of his thoughts by shaking his head quickly. Taking a sip of the coffee, he set it back down—the sweetness made him feel nauseous. Getting up, he dumped it in the sink and filled the mug again. Black this time. He grimaced at the bitter tang of it, but forced himself to swallow. Connie came out of the bathroom and joined him at the table, where they proceeded to alternatively share glances and look down.

"So…" David started, not trusting himself alone with the silence. "What are you going to do today?"

Connie sighed. "I don't know. I'm going crazy with nothing to distract me, but I can't concentrate on anything."

"I know what you mean," David admitted. At least it wasn't just him. As he opened his mouth again to say something, anything, the shrill ring of the telephone cut him off, causing him to jump in surprise. His chest tightened and his eyes met his wife's for a split second. Fear flashed in both pairs. Standing up, he walked hurriedly to the phone and reached out for it. He hesitated with his hand directly above it. He couldn't not answer it, but…what if it was bad news? Wouldn't it be better to have hope for as long as possible? But what if it was important? It could even be good news, he reminded himself doubtfully. The phone rang again, making up his mind for him. Grabbing at it, he lifted it to his ear, stammering, "Hel-lo?"

A low, distorted voice growled shortly, "Check your email, dumbass." Before David could get a word in, there was a harsh click as the line went dead.

"What is it?" Connie asked, her eyes wide.

He stood frozen for a moment before snapping out of it and going immediately to the computer. He hadn't gotten on it since Saturday. Clicking on the mouse hastily, he accidentally opened the wrong window and let out a curse.

"David?" Connie came up behind him. "What's going on? What was that phone call about? Was it Annie? What—"

"Would you just shut up for a minute?!" David said sharply. He felt rather than heard her reaction. His shoulders slumped, and he turned to face her. "I'm sorry, honey…I--" He rubbed a hand over his face wearily.

"It's all right, just…tell me what happened. Please?" Connie watched him anxiously.

He explained quickly, and turned back to the screen. Clicking on New Mail, he knew at once which one to open. As soon as he did so, a video started to play. Gasping in unison at the scene before them, they watched, shocked, as it played out. When it was over, David looked at Connie, feeling as pale as she appeared. "We have to call the FBI. Right now."

**0o0o0o0o0o**

"Still nothing?" Lassiter said as Shawn and Gus emerged from yet another bar.

Shawn shook his head. "What's next?"

Lassiter glanced down at the sheet of paper. There were only two names left. "Lee's on 25th. It's that and one other; if we don't get anything at either of those, we're out of leads."

Moaning, Shawn threw his arms around the detective's neck, causing him to stagger off the sidewalk. "Carry me, Lassy!"

"What? No way. Get off of me!" Lassiter attempted to shove the other man away.

"Careful," Gus warned. "He'll—" Before he got a chance to explain, Shawn collapsed against Lassiter in an obviously phony faint, leaning all his weight against him.

"Shawn!"

Gus hid a grin. "Sorry, I tried to tell you."

Lassiter struggled under Shawn's dead weight. "He does this often?"

"You kidding? He's used that against me since 5th grade. Try tickling him on--"

"Yeah, I know the place," Lassiter told him, reaching for Shawn's ribs.

"Right," Gus answered awkwardly. He chuckled as Shawn 'recovered' under Lassiter's persuasion.

"Traitor," Shawn muttered as they walked on, glaring at Gus. His friend just smiled, unfazed.

"When are you going to grow up?" Lassiter inquired, capturing Shawn's neck in the crook of his elbow and pulling him closer.

"When you stop watching old westerns," Shawn said audaciously, sneaking a kiss to the other man's cheek.

"Yeckh," Gus interrupted, holding his hand up. "Even Jules and I aren't that cutesy."

"Aw, didja hear that, Lassy? Gus thinks we're cutesy."

"Yeckh," Lassiter responded, mimicking Gus and scrunching up his nose. Shawn poked him in retaliation.

Arriving at the car, they got in and drove to 25th street. "There it is," Gus said, pointing. Lassiter pulled to a stop and parked near the entrance.

"I think I'll just wait here this time," Lassiter told them as they stepped out. "That okay?"

"Sure." Shawn reached in the window and ruffled his hair teasingly. "See ya in a couple minutes."

Lassiter scowled at him, smoothing the hair back down with his hand. Shawn smirked and skipped off in the direction of the bar. As Lassiter and Gus watched him go, the detective said, "You want him?"

"Oh GusGus," Shawn called in a singsongy voice. "Are you coming?"

Gus put his hands up. "He's all yours." Walking slowly and deliberately, he joined his impatient friend in front of the building and they entered together.

As they walked through the door, Shawn glanced around subtly, a disarming grin on his face. The place was decently filled, given that it was happy hour. A group of 'motorcycle dudes,' as he dubbed them, stood in the corner talking, complete with the usual bandanas and leather vests. Some people were playing pool on the opposite side of the room, and others sat at tables or the bar, gulping down pints of whatever drink suited them. Shawn took it all in, adding up the smallest details in the off chance that they would give him something useful. Approaching the bar, he waved over the barkeep.

"Hello there, good sir. I am Shawn Spencer, and this is my best friend, Eskimo von Green—thing…anyway, we were just wondering if you've seen another friend of ours around here recently; he goes by the name of Greg Sheridan?" He raised an eyebrow and made his 'inquisitive' face. Gus elbowed him not so subtly.

The barkeep stared at them in disinterest as Shawn jumped and jabbed Gus back. As the pseudo-psychic turned back to face the man, something that had registered in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He was distracted when the bartender said with the hint of a threat, "Never heard of him."

"Really?" Shawn said, in false disbelief. "That's so weird, because he told us he comes here all the time." Suddenly, he started coughing, leaning on Gus for support. "Distract him," he whispered in his friend's ear inconspicuously between gasps for air. "Wow," he wheezed. "Sorry about that." He gave Gus a meaningful look. Gus looked back at him, obviously devoid of ideas. Shawn rolled his eyes and tripped him, causing him to fall heavily against the counter. Luckily, Gus took advantage of the position and 'accidentally' knocked several glasses to the floor.

"Oh man, I am so sorry." Gus shook his head. "There I go, being clumsy again. 'Cause gosh knows I am just…really clumsy. Yeah…"

While the bartender cleaned up, and Gus pretended to help, Shawn glanced over at the table that had caught his attention in the first place. It had a single occupant with his back to them; a Marlins baseball cap was tugged down over his face, and his hands were clenched tightly on top of the table. A recently crushed cigarette lay in the ashtray. Shawn put his fingers to his temples, going back in his mind to where he had first noticed something. There—that was it…he had just said the name Sheridan, and the man had dropped his cigarette. Shawn paused. How often did people drop cigarettes without meaning to?

"Something wrong with him?"

Shawn turned back; the bartender was watching him suspiciously while mopping up the last of the spilled liquid on the counter. Before Gus could come up with something to say, Shawn said, "No, uh…I think I just need a drink." He racked his brain to come up with some sort of plan. He got an idea, and felt his pockets, pretending to check for his wallet. "Man, I forgot my wallet in the car. Could you go get it, Gu—Eskimo?" He shifted his eyes to the side as he spoke, trying to alert Gus to the presence of the man at the table without alerting the bartender.

Gus, oblivious, said, "Oh it's okay, I've got you covered." They sat down at the bar, Shawn scowling at him. Not wanting to raise suspicion, he stayed long enough to take a few swallows. Soon after, he tugged at Gus's arm. "C'mon, let's go." As soon as they were outside and out of view of the people in the bar, Shawn punched Gus on the arm.

"Ow! What?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Never mind, just go tell Lassy that I think Sheridan is in there and--"

"Sheridan was there?! Where?" Gus asked, shocked.

"Yes! Just go!" Shawn said quickly. "I'm going to go around back and watch that exit." He jogged off, not waiting for Gus's response.

Gus stared after him for a second before hurrying over to the car. When he relayed Shawn's news, Lassiter cursed and jumped out, pausing only long enough to lock it and take his gun out of its holster. He ran quickly but stealthily to the front entrance of the bar, stopping again momentarily to switch the safety off. After briefly going over what he remembered of the photo of Sheridan in his mind, he burst into the bar, shouting, "SBPD, everyone put your hands in the air!" There were several shouts of surprise, but most of the occupants dropped what they were holding and complied. One man, however, leapt up, pulling a gun out of his belt and firing wildly at Lassiter. A high-pitched scream sounded from behind him, which he vaguely identified as Gus. His training kicked in immediately and he fired back, shouting, "Out of the way!"

The man he assumed to be Sheridan bolted in the opposite direction. _Oh god_, Lassiter thought. _He's heading towards Shawn._ Following him to the exit, Lassiter shoved a table out of the way and hurtled several overturned chairs in his haste. A few yards behind his target, he rounded a corner only to be confronted with more shots. Ducking out of the way, he leaned against the wall and then peeked around the corner again. Sheridan was nowhere to be seen. Seconds later, he heard a door slam. _No no no!_ Hearing a scuffle, he rushed to the exit and yanked the door open with one hand, holding his gun at the ready with the other.

"Lassy, look out!"

Lassiter twisted back inside, sparks hitting him as bullets collided with the door and the outer wall, right where he had been standing. "Shawn?" he called.

"I'm okay!" came the response. "Come on, he's getting away!"

Relieved, Lassiter exited the building only to see Shawn running off into an alley. "Shawn, wait!" Sprinting after him, he soon caught up and passed the younger man. "Stay back," he panted.

"Not a chance," Shawn gasped back as he tried to keep up.

Lassiter smiled grimly. He was brave--he would give him that. Stupid, but brave.

Ahead, Sheridan turned a corner. Shawn and Lassiter headed towards it, but were forced to skid to a stop and leap in opposite directions as Sheridan reappeared and fired at them again.

"Isn't he out of bullets yet?" Shawn asked, annoyed, when they were back on their feet.

"It's not a six-shooter, Shawn," Lassiter remarked in grim amusement.

"Hmph," was the reply.

With Sheridan out of sight again, they raced towards the building he had disappeared behind. Several yards ahead of Shawn, Lassiter raced around the corner without hesitating. Two shots rang through the air and Lassiter jerked from the impact as he was hit. His gun flew out of his grip and he stumbled to the ground.

"Lassy?! Oh god, Lassy!" Shawn rushed forward to kneel at his side.

The detective clenched his teeth, barely preventing himself from shouting in pain. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he managed to grit out.

"Fine?!" Shawn started to hyperventilate. "Lassy, you're bleeding! Oh my god, don't die on me!"

"Shawn, he just winged me. I'm not going to die." Somehow he still managed to sound exasperated. "Where did Sheridan--" Before he could finish the question, bullets started whizzing around them once more.

Reacting instinctively, Shawn lunged for Lassiter's gun. He rolled quickly out of the line of fire and then, taking a deep breath, spun to face Sheridan. His first shot hit the man directly in the chest, causing him to stagger slightly, a look of utter shock on his face. The second followed right after, finding its mark as easily as it would one of the practice targets at the station. Sheridan dropped like a block of cement, still staring at Shawn.

Immediately, Shawn turned back to Lassiter. The detective was looking at him in amazement. "What?" Shawn asked.

"Where in the hell did you learn to shoot like that?" Lassiter said, stunned.

The younger man shrugged nonchalantly. "Henry started taking me to the range when I was like seven. No biggie."

Lassiter simply shook his head, speechless. He flinched as he moved his arm by accident.

Shawn turned his attention back to the wound. "You're sure it's not too bad?" he said anxiously.

"As long as I can get to a hospital soon. I don't want to lose too much blood."

"Right," Shawn nodded. "So I should, like…bandage that up or something, huh?"

Rolling his eyes, Lassiter pulled at his tie with his good hand. "Tie this around my arm, above the wound. That'll be good enough for now."

Doing as he said, Shawn leaned down and kissed him gently. "It better be."

Behind them, completely unnoticed, Sheridan struggled numbly to his knees. Hate and the will to live overcoming the effects of his injuries, he reached for his gun. Lifting it slowly, he aimed and…

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Shawn whirled just in time to see Gus burst out from behind another building and charge up to Sheridan holding a steel pipe over his head in both hands. Before Sheridan could turn fully, Gus hit him solidly on the head with the pipe, knocking him out. Dropping the makeshift weapon, he looked at his friend, who was currently staring at him with his jaw hanging open like a cow that had forgotten it was in the middle of chewing. Gus shook his finger judgmentally. "You see what happens when you start kissing other men?"

Shawn and Lassiter continued to stare.

"What?" Gus crossed his arms. "I'm not completely helpless, you know."

"Dude…" Shawn finally spoke. "You totally just saved my life."

"You know that's right," Gus said, uncharacteristically calm.

There was another moment of silence. Lassiter nudged Shawn, who seemed to be in some sort of shocked trance. Getting up, Shawn walked slowly toward his friend. Stopping a few feet away, he hesitated, still adjusting to what had just happened. His eyes shining a little brighter than usual, he took the remaining steps and embraced Gus tightly. "Thank you," he said, muffled against the other man's shoulder.

Gus patted him on the back. "That's what friends are for."

Shawn snorted as he pulled back. "Where'd you come up with that?"

"Shut up." Gus punched him lightly.

Grinning, Shawn punched him back.

"So, is he alive?" Lassiter came up behind them to examine Sheridan.

"I dunno," Shawn answered. "He doesn't look too good."

"Well, he's been shot twice and conked over the head with a pipe, Shawn. I don't think he's doing too good." Lassiter rolled his eyes and crouched down to check for a pulse. "Sluggish, but he's still with us." He stood up again, saying, "You'd better call--"

Blood spattered over them as several short blasts resonated deafeningly through the air, and Sheridan's body was riddled with bullets from an unknown source. Even with his injury, Lassiter was first to react. He rammed himself into Shawn and Gus, knocking them over and crying out in pain as his arm came into contact with them and then the ground. "Go! Go!" he yelled.

Half crawling, half stumbling, they rushed wildly away from Sheridan. As soon as they got under cover, Shawn took the gun again, which Lassiter had retrieved, and held it at the ready as he peeked around the garbage bin on one side of them.

"Careful!" Gus hissed.

Shawn looked around, but saw no sign of the shooter.

"Must have been a sniper," Lassiter groaned, clutching at his arm. The tie had come loose and he was bleeding heavily.

"Lassy—" Shawn drew his breath in sharply as he looked at him. He grabbed the tie and tightened it again. Pulling off his shirt, he ripped off a strip and wrapped it over the wound as carefully as he could.

"That was hot," Lassiter tried to joke.

The corner of Shawn's mouth twitched, but he was too worried to smile.

"So what do we do now?" Gus interjected.

"We should probably call the Chief," Shawn offered.

"No, I mean about—" Gus gestured at Sheridan. "Him. How are we going to find Annie now?"

As they looked out towards the mangled remains of what had been their sole lead, silence was the only answer.

**To Be Continued…**

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**A/N: I can't believe I finally finished this! It took forever to get myself motivated enough to seriously work on it. Originally, I was going to end this chapter right before Gus comes with the pipe, but I decided that would just be cruel and way too much of a cliché. Hey, let me know what y'all think of the section with Marshak – I was really trying to convey how the parents of a kidnapped child would be feeling, so I hope I did all right with that. Kudos to anyone who can find the line inspired by a scene in The West Wing. Thanks for reading (and hopefully reviewing)!!**


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